


What He Always Wanted

by WhosInTheAttic



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Begging, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foursome, Foursome - F/F/F/M, Light Bondage, Multi, OT4, Oral Sex, PWP, Rose/Ten/Rose/Rose, Self-cest, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhosInTheAttic/pseuds/WhosInTheAttic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's brush with psychic pollen leads to an experience he never thought he'd have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Always Wanted

The Doctor collapsed in the control room, babbling incoherently about some harmless species of psychic pollen, “Everything’s alright Rose, just need a fifteen minute lie-down!” he’d said before collapsing into her arms and sending them both tumbling to the grating of the console room floor.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Doctor woke up on the floor in the corridor. He got to his feet, trying to remember if he’d fallen and hit his head, checking for damage as he ruffled his hair. No injuries. He hadn’t recalled lying down in this very unsuitable place for a rest, either. A tickle of unease wriggled against the back of his brain but quickly faded. He smoothed his lapels, _I could swear I was wearing brown,_ he thought, _I never wear the blue._ Just as quickly as the thought arose, it was cast out. He brushed his coat back to tuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and continued down the corridor to his bedroom.

Once inside, he suddenly felt the need to relax, so he toed off his maroon trainers, took his jacket off, tossed it over an armchair perched in the corner, and sprawled out on the bed—the bed that suddenly seemed much larger and emptier than it had before—and tucked his hands under the back of his head. He lay that way, ankles crossed, bobbing the toe of his trainer, biting his lip.

There was movement at the door, and he turned to see Rose leaning against the door jamb, her blonde hair looking freshly blow-dried. She was wearing a silky dressing gown, the tie knotted loosely around her waist. The neckline plunged far more than normal, exposing the skin between her breasts. The Doctor gulped and quickly refocused on her face. “Oh. Hello Rose. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she said breathily, “Everythin’ ‘s fine Doctor. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes falling again to the stretch of skin she usually kept hidden. It looked as white and silky as whole cream, and his tongue touched the backs of his top teeth as he imagined what that swath of skin might taste like. He bit his tongue and shook his head to clear the image, bringing his attention back to her honey-brown eyes.

Rose crossed the floor and came to his bed, standing over him. “I was jus’ thinkin’,” she said, tracing a finger along his chest, “That I’m tired of waitin’.”

The Doctor tensed under her attentions as a million scenarios rushed through his brain all at once. But instead of the high pitched, _Waiting for what?_ that died in his throat, the words that came out were husky, and his face was quirked into a knowing smirk; he said, “And exactly what is it you’re tired of waiting for, Rose Tyler?”

Just like that, she was straddling his slim hips, her knees pressing into the blankets at his flanks. Rose leaned down to whisper breathily in his ear, “You.”

She immediately began to work the buttons of his jacket, and while part of him wanted to grab her hands and stop her, backpedal, push away, retreat to the console room to tinker with the circuitry, instead he found himself captivated by the bit of skin that was showing at the front of her dressing gown. As she leaned forward to tug at his necktie, and began unbuttoning his Oxford, she her gown fell open a bit and he could see the inner swells of her breasts. The blood started pooling in his groin, and again he felt the urge to retreat. Instead, he drew his hands from behind his head and brought them down so that he could gently stroke her bare knees with his fingertips.

When Rose reached the last button, he sat up. He thought maybe he would lift her off of him, prevent her from feeling the beginnings of the erection that he couldn’t will away. Instead, he froze, staring at her lips; they were plump and pink and her tongue was peeking between them. He thought for a moment he’d like to bite those lips, but then Rose was peeling his shirt and jacket off his shoulders, sliding them down his arms, dislodging his tie and leaving it to hang loosely against his bare skin. He tried not to focus on the feel of the silk as it rasped across his chest hair, the end tickling at his belly as it settled into place. 

To his surprise, he found he was fully cooperating with Rose’s actions, wriggling his arms to free them from his shirtsleeves, finally tossing both pieces of clothing to the floor beside his bed. He leaned in to press his lips to hers, but she stopped him; Rose pressed one palm into his chest and pushed him until he felt the duvet at his back. _What is happening? Oh I can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening. It’s wrong. It’s wrong._ Oh. As she pulled at the silk tie and  removed it from the waist of the gown, the flaps of pink fabric fell open to reveal her breasts.

“Ummmnnnghf,” the Doctor choked out. Rose leaned forward and took one of his hands in both of hers. He found himself captivated by the swell of her breasts, the way they swayed with her efforts as she carefully bound his wrists together, and then bound them to one of the rails in his headboard. It was only once he was restrained that he wondered when his bed had gotten this particular headboard. Rose leaned in close to him, her lips nearly to his.

“I’m tired of waiting for you, Doctor,” she said in a breathy voice, and pressed herself ever-so-slightly against his erection, “Now it’s your turn to wait for me.” She began to rise off of him, and his hips tried to follow her for a split second. He most definitely did _not_ whimper, as that would be undignified. 

She was standing beside the bed again, and smiling wickedly at him as he struggled against the knots (and was honestly amazed at how well-made they were; not too tight at his wrists, but still impossible to free himself from), eyeing his tented trousers with something like joy in her eyes. She leaned over him again, the scent of her blonde hair seeping into his nostrils, the strawberry crème smell permeating the air between them, “I think it’s time,” she said, brushing his tie aside to ghost a fingertip down the center of his chest, nearly to his navel, “That you knew what it feels like to _wait.”_ The Doctor swallowed thickly and his eyes fell upon her lacy white panties before traversing her curves once more.

Rose walked into the room. _Another_ Rose, just the same as the first, only her hair was brown. She padded over to the bed; the blonde Rose turned to meet her, and there was no conversation, no conspiratorial words exchanged between the two humans. The brunette pulled the blonde in for a searing kiss, identical lips pressing to one another, plump and moist, and as they moved, the Doctor could see hints and glances of tongue and _oh._ “Nnnggh.” 

Did he just groan? The thought didn’t have time to form in his head, because now the pink and yellow human was tugging at the tie of her duplicate’s dressing gown, taking the lapels in her hands to reveal the lacy white knickers underneath. The Doctor looked on with hooded eyes as it fluttered down to pool at Rose’s feet. The brunette then did the same with the his Rose’s robe, and at the same time they took each other by the hips and closed the distance between them. The Doctor sighed and struggled against his bindings as he watched their nipples become taught little peaks, hardened by the sensation of rubbing against each other’s bare flesh. He licked his lips, surprised at how desperately he wanted to lap at them each in turn, suckling them. He whimpered at the thought, and the two Roses broke their kiss to look at him; they giggled impishly and circled the bed to lie side by side next to him, frustratingly out of his reach. 

The brunette rolled on top of the blonde Rose, and the Doctor watched as their breasts pressed together exquisitely; he gaped, hoping to commit to memory every curve of creamy flesh, watching as the brunette tilted her neck to plant a wet kiss to Rose’s neck. As the Doctor’s eyes raked down the naked curves of their bodies, he spotted something that made his pants tighten further than they already had; his Rose was slipping her fingers through the curls of the brunette, moving forward and then back again, and he could see moisture glistening there. “Oh,” he sighed.

As if spurred forward by the arousal breaking through in that one word, she pushed her fingers into the other woman, causing the brunette to groan against the thin flesh of her neck. “You’ve started without me,” a disappointed voice says from the doorway. The Doctor snapped his gaze from the women beside him to the woman in the doorway. _Rose._ His brain began short circuiting, the thoughts looping back on themselves. _How is this…?_ But before he could adequately put words to them, they burst like balloons.

This newest Rose was ginger, and she crossed the floor to half-bend, half-kneel by his side. She cupped each of the Doctor’s cheeks in her hands, and leaned in close, her fingers curling into his hair, her lips so near to his. He wanted to feel her lips against his; he was suddenly overcome by a powerful wave of lust—he wanted to _devour_ Rose—and when he tried to stretch up and claim her lips, she pulled away. He whimpered, and the ginger Rose walked with an extra swish to her hips to join the other two women, slowly running her fingertips over the back of the brunette Rose as she situated herself on the bed, while the blonde Rose continued to work her fingers in and out of the woman on top of her. The ginger human threaded her arm through the tangle of legs and stroked the folds of the blonde Rose. The blonde gasped, and the brunette felt her pulse quicken against her lips as the ginger sank two of her fingers into the wet channel of his Rose.

The Doctor bucked his hips and met nothing but air, the constriction of his trousers and pants only agitating him. The thought to roll over, grind his hips into the mattress and relieve some of the pressure, to make himself come and be done with it; the thought was exquisite and broke apart like an abused string of pearls before he could even turn. So he lay there, helpless, a spot of moisture seeping through to the outside of his trousers as his cock wept with the frustration of having the three woman so near, so naked, and so…

The blonde Rose withdrew her fingers from the brunette and turned toward the Doctor; immediately, the brunette was set upon by the ginger, who’d withdrawn her fingers from his Rose and quickly slid them into her duplicate. His Rose—his beautiful pink and yellow human—moved closer to him. He shivered with the anticipation. Would she touch him? Would she kiss him? His senses were on fire with the smell of their arousal, the smell of the brunette’s juices that clung to Rose’s fingers. Rose’s eyes met his as she slid one glistening finger between her lips. The Doctor groaned at the sight, and his Rose withdrew her finger and smiled wolfishly at him. “D’you wan’ a taste?” she asked.

“Ngh,” the Doctor said, nodding his head. With that, his blonde Rose traced her middle finger along first his plump bottom lip, then the top, before dipping it between them.

“How do I taste, Doctor?” she whispered, leaning nearer, pushing her finger into his mouth a bit further, before withdrawing it, then pushing it in again. She leaned down to cover his mouth with her own, only withdrawing her finger after her tongue had had a chance to slide along it, following its path against the wet curves of the Doctor’s mouth. She suckled at his lip before delving hungrily into his mouth once more.

The flavors of Rose’s mouth mixed with her slick arousal were causing the synapses in the Doctor’s brain to misfire, shorting out his very impressive Time Lord thought-processes. He was rapidly being reduced to a quaking, aching mess, and when Rose broke the kiss, all he could manage was, “Please, Rose.” He sighed and squirmed, tugged at his binds and wriggled his hips, “Rose, please touch me. I need you.”

Rose’s face cracked into a mischievous grin. “Good.” She dragged her fingers through his chest hair, feeling the smooth skin beneath before digging him gently with her nails as she slid her hand down the length of his lean torso. The Doctor held his breath as her fingertips neared his waistband, hoping that she would pull at the fastenings of his trousers, slip her warm hand inside them and work his length in her fist. When he was sure by her motions that _that_ wouldn’t happen, he longed instead for her to press the heel of her palm against his erection; he was desperate for the pressure.

Instead, his Rose stopped her ministrations and turned to the other two women, whose fingers were buried in one another. The ginger was on top, back arched, her mouth wrapped around the right nipple of the brunette. Rose took the woman’s left nipple into her mouth and began to suck. The Doctor struggled against the smooth silk that bound his wrists and watched the women; he   was helpless, eager and desperate to touch them.

“Rose, please,” he begged, his breath ragged. The three Roses ignored him; the only indication that he’d been heard at all was the smirk of the blonde Rose against the skin of the brunette as she kissed slowly down her front, pausing to dip her tongue into the woman’s navel. She moved lower and lapped at the ginger’s fingers, until she removed them to brace herself above the brunette, once again claiming her mouth. The blonde Rose looked at the Doctor as she buried her face in the brunette’s folds.

The Doctor licked his own lips as he imagined the things Rose must be doing with her tongue; the brunette keened and moaned into the mouth of the ginger, and the Doctor’s lips quivered as he watched his Rose work her tongue against the clit of the brunette. He imagined her massaging little circles, swirling over and over her slick sensitive skin. The Doctor growled and tugged again at his bindings. Suddenly, the brunette arched her back, breaking the kiss, and gave a cry that shot to the pit of the Doctor’s stomach and exploded in heat at his groin. He winced at the sensation, aching for some kind of release, for _something_. “Please,” he bit out more urgently, “Please Rose…touch me. I _need_ you. I _need_ you to _touch_ me.”

The ginger maneuvered toward him, while the blonde Rose crept up the body of the brunette. She leaned down close to kiss her, and the brunette darted her tongue out to sample the juices that clung to her chin before his Rose covered her mouth for a searing kiss.

Now the ginger Rose was leaning over him, on her hands and knees, allowing her hair to fall around her face and tickle his bare torso. His tie still hung around his neck, and Rose pulled at the silk as she crept up his form, loosening it and leaning forward to tug it over his head. He lunged at her then, and pulled her right nipple between his lips, suckling, nipping at it hungrily. Rose gasped, and the Doctor could feel the tremble of her body against his lips as her breath went ragged. The Doctor bucked his hips toward her, but found only air. He whimpered against her soft flesh, and after a moment she (reluctantly, he noticed) pulled away from him.

“Please, Rose. I can’t…I don’t…I just want…I want to fuck you. _Please_ let me fuck you,” he was defeated and trembling beneath her, his cock hard and aching, straining against his trousers.

“What?” the ginger said, smiling a signature Rose smile. The brunette and the blonde paused in their ministrations to look at him.

Suddenly embarrassed—and at the same time incredibly aroused—at being the center of their attention, he repeated, “I want to fuck you. Please let me fuck you,” his voice was uneven, his breath hitching. The woman on top of him grinned mischievously, and the two to his right giggled. His Rose extricated herself from the embrace of the brunette and came around to his left side. The brunette sidled up to his right. The ginger moved slowly down his lean body, her lips ghosting over his tender skin, her hot breath teasing the fine hairs that gradually darkened and became more prominent as they approached his navel. She dipped her tongue into his navel and he groaned at the feeling. Her hot human mouth was exquisite. He groaned again as he felt her fingers undo the clasp and button of his trousers; a chill raced through his body as he heard the rasp of his zip being lowered. The ginger began to tug at his trousers and pants (pulling them both down in one go, to his relief); at the same time, his Rose and the brunette Rose leaned in to claim his lips at the same time.

It was all a bit confusing, lips and tongues, nipping and suckling, noses all mushed together as they struggled to taste each other. The brunette withdrew and settled herself beside the ginger, as she nipped at the Doctor’s thighs. His Rose set to work on his neck, sighing into his ear, “Watch them, Doctor,” she encouraged, and he obeyed.

The brunette and the ginger were spread out on either side of him, each propped up on one elbow, their opposite hands resting between his thighs. They were so close to his cock that he could feel their breath against his taut skin. He thought the ginger may lap at his slick fluids, but instead she pressed her lips to the brunette’s, kissing her hungrily. His Rose’s fingers traced circles along his flanks as she sucked and nipped at his neck, leaving marks and bruises in her wake.

Then he felt it. _Oh. Oh my. Blimey. Oh. Fuck._ His brain began, almost stuttering; the two women who had been kissing over his cock were now kissing _around_ his cock, their tongues swirling along his length as they moved against each other and dipped between matching pairs of identical lips. The brunette hummed her approval as she swiped her tongue over the tip of him, tasting his fluids, and then pulled back long enough to kiss the ginger. The ginger moaned at the taste of the brunette’s mouth mixed with the Doctor’s arousal. Something wordless passed between the two women, and they both began shifting around on the bed. The blonde Rose did the same, and soon the brunette was on her back, her feet against the thighs of the ginger, who had her back to him, straddling him. He could feel her heat so close to him, tantalizingly close; she was bent over lapping at the wet folds of the brunette, but he was too distracted by his Rose, situating herself (with some difficulty) over him, her hot sex just out of reach of his lips.

The Doctor growled as she looked down the length of her body at him. She stroked his sideburns before curling her fingers into his hair. She bit her lip and whispered, “Doctor, I’ve waited too long. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Rose,” he whispered breathlessly, his brown eyes worshipping the dips and swells of her body as he looked into her eyes, “I won’t keep you waiting anymore,” and with that statement, he lifted his head to plunge his tongue into her entrance, twirling and thrusting. Rose gave a small moan, and it was then that the ginger sank down onto him. The Doctor groaned and hummed against Rose’s slick heat, and bucked into the ginger Rose who was rolling her deft little hips over him.

He nuzzled into Rose’s folds, his nose rubbing her clit as he lapped at her, dipped his tongue into her over and over. Finally, he wrapped his lips around her clit and alternated between sucking and swirling his tongue in firm little circles. He pulled back just a bit, “Rose,” he whispered, his breath tickling her sensitive flesh, “Let me touch you,” he tugged against his bindings, and grunted as the ginger Rose moved _just there,_ “Please let me touch you. I want to touch you.” He nuzzled into her folds again, and flicked his tongue over her clit. Rose gasped and pressed herself against his mouth as he dipped his tongue into her once more; she rolled her hips gently against his mouth, his nose pressing into her clit. She reached for the silk and tugged at it.

He moaned against the flesh of the blonde Rose as he thrust into the ginger. He couldn’t see, but he could tell by the cries of the brunette and the way her fingers were clutching at his legs, nails scraping his calves, that the ginger was doing something clever with her mouth. When Rose had freed his hands, he immediately brought them to her hips, gripping her and pulling her closer to his mouth, nipping at her folds. He slid a hand behind her and gave her bum a squeeze, before tracing his fingers along the cleft where her thigh met the round curve of her arse. He slid his fingers forward and felt her moisture; as his fingertips circled her entrance, he covered her clit with his lips, suckling at it as he struggled to maintain a good rhythm for both Roses.

As the Doctor worked her clit with his tongue, he slid two fingers into her. The ginger Rose was riding him hard now, lost in her own pace, chasing her orgasm; he could tell she was close by the way her muscles clenched at his length. It made him growl against his Rose, and he bucked his hips into the ginger. The Rose sitting on his face gave a deep moan, and the Doctor renewed his effort; he wanted to feel her come, wanted to taste her pleasure. He gave a deep moan from his throat, and the vibration of his voice caused Rose’s breath to hitch. She threw her head back, and suddenly she was crying out to him, “Doctor!” she rocked against his face as she came, and he continued to lap at her, easing her down from her pleasure while greedily sampling everything she gave him. 

Another cry—Rose’s own voice calling out, “Rose!”—filled the room and he felt a pair of hands grip his legs tightly for a moment before releasing as the inarticulate words that followed gave way to pants and sighs.

The Doctor was surprised he didn’t come just then, at the sheer eroticism of hearing his beautiful human companion calling out to herself at the height of pleasure. His Rose moved to settle beside them, pulling the brunette into her arms as she weakly extricated herself from beneath the ginger. The Doctor grabbed the hips of the Rose that was riding him, and thrust up into her again and again, all the while wondering at the sight of their joined bodies, their mingled scent, and the wet sounds of their flesh meeting.

“Oh fuck,” groaned the ginger as she gave in to the rhythm he was creating. He could feel her body tensing around him, her walls almost shivering and then…

“Aahhh-mmmm!” Rose moaned as she came, her voice trembling as she stilled above him. He thrust into her firmly several more times, savoring the feel of her receding orgasm against his cock. He bit his lip and loosened his grip on her hips, brushing his fingers over her bum before letting his hands fall to the duvet.

He watched the muscles in her back flex as her breathing returned to normal, then turned to his right to take in the beautiful sight of his Rose and the brunette curled into each other’s arms, snogging like there was no tomorrow. “Rose?” the ginger on top of him whispered to the pair. They both turned to look at her, twin Cheshire grins playing at their lips. The ginger twisted to reach for the hand of the brunette while moving off of him. He hissed at the sudden feeling of the comparatively-cooler air on his cock. The ginger and brunette stood on their knees on the bed, and hungrily took each other’s mouths. His Rose moved beside him again, her fingers splaying across his chest, ghosting over each of his nipples in turn.

The other two women began to giggle, fondling each other and nipping playfully at necks, shoulders, fingers and breasts. When the brunette realized the Doctor was watching, she said, “Oi, don’t mind us,” and gave a signature Rose Tyler grin, moving her hand from the side of the ginger just enough to wave him off before capturing the woman in her embrace and pulling them to the bed in a tangle of limbs.

The wet warmth of Rose’s human lips closed around his right nipple, and he gasped. His attention was immediately on his Rose then; he curled his fingers into her hair and encouraged her lips even more firmly to his chest. He was rewarded with a little nip that made him hiss in pleasure and she carefully insinuated herself on top of him. “Rose,” he whispered. “Rose,” he said, more power in his voice than the first time, though still husky with arousal.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the wanting, the _needing,_ the ache of his cock. He wanted Rose and he wanted her _now._ He took her roughly by the arms and pulled her up so that their mouths could meet. His lips crashed into hers, lips and tongues and bumping teeth in his fervor. He wrapped an arm around her waist and curled one over her shoulder before flipping them.

“I want you, Rose Tyler,” he growled, his breath against her lips, “I want you—I _need_ you—to be mine.” He removed his arm from around her waist and took himself in hand, settling between her thighs and poising himself at her entrance. “I love you,” he said, the tenderness breaking through his lust, and he thrust into her in one firm, even stroke.

Being buried in her to the hilt made his toes curl for a moment as he paused to take in her cry of pleasure and give her a moment to adjust. She snaked her arms around his back, and when her hands clutched greedily at his bum, urging him to go on, he began to move. His rhythm was slow at first, with firm strokes, but Rose wantonly called out, “More! More Doctor!” and her hitch of breath and raw desired spurred him on. 

She rocked her hips to meet his over and over again, and the words Rose spilled into the air between them were driving him wild, expletives and endearments, talk of how he made her feel, all the things she wanted him to do to her, he took her thigh and hitched it up further on his hip, hooking his elbow under her knee, and they both bit out a loud and simultaneous, “Fuck!” as his cock slid even further into her heat. He slipped his other hand between them and began to work her clit with his fingers. “Come, Rose,” he begged her, “Come for me, please,” he whispered. “I need to see you and hear you. I need to feel you come.”

His own orgasm was coiled in his belly like a viper, and at the first tensing of Rose’s walls, his control broke; he cried out spilling into her as he came powerfully, his pulse inside her pushing her over the edge; the Doctor gasped as Rose’s muscles clenched and held him, almost as greedily has her hands had clutched his bum. He trembled as his orgasm subsided, his vision coming back from sights of supernovas as he collapsed on top of her, caging her in his embrace.

It felt so good to have her here, alone like this, naked beneath him. _Wait. Hadn’t there been…?_ He turned to look at where the ginger and the brunette once were, but the bed was only occupied by them. A storm cloud of confusion threatened to set in, but Rose reached up to cup his cheek, her fingers going back into his hair, her thumb brushing his sideburn, and it was forgotten. “Say it again?” she asked tenderly, peering into his brown eyes.

“What?” he smiles, pressing a kiss into her palm.

“You know.”

He smirks, but it spreads into a look of pure adoration, “I love you, Rose Tyler.”

“I love you, too Doctor.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-   


“Doctor? Doctor! Are you okay? Are you goin’ to be alright?” Rose looked down at him nervously, cupping his cheek in her hand. His eyes blinked open and he studied her face for a long moment, unable to read the thoughts that flitted behind his brown eyes.

It had all been a dream—or a hallucination; which was the main effect of psychic pollen. His cheeks flushed a bit as he recalled the events his very impressive Time Lord imagination had cooked up; now that he was looking the real Rose Tyler in the eye, it seemed crude. This species of psychic pollen was designed for aiding in problem-solving, not…well, not _that._

It had done its job, because for the first time, the Doctor felt as though he was seeing things clearly. He beamed at Rose, and quickly curled his hand around the back of her neck, allowing his fingers to play into her hair. He pulled her lips to his; she froze for a moment, her muscles tense under his touch, but then relaxed into the kiss and returned it wholeheartedly. Their tongues explored one another for several minutes, until Rose withdrew to suck his bottom lip into her mouth and nibble it slightly. Finally, the Doctor broke the kiss.

“Oh, I’m okay. I think _we’re_ going to be alright,” he grinned; she didn’t understand where all this is coming from, but the lilt in his voice when he said ‘we’ tells her that this is the moment she’d been waiting so long for. 


End file.
